


Growing Pains

by caswell



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Boss/Employee Relationship, F/F, there's a lot more wine than i expected when i started writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 05:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11284230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caswell/pseuds/caswell
Summary: Heather Chandler seems like a cruel employer, but when a minor incident leads to them becoming friends, Heather Duke discovers a sensitive side to her that nobody else has ever seen.





	Growing Pains

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY NONNI I LOVE YOU!!! pls enjoy Very Rushed Chanduke, I never thought I could write this quick but I think it turned out well!!!
> 
> Just a note: since this is set approximately ~7? years??? after their senior year, this might not be "in character" in that they've had, you know, time to mature and stuff so like Hopefully they wouldn't be acting the same way as in canon.  
> So don't drag me for that lol

“Oh, _shit!”_ The folder in Heather Duke's arms slipped from her hands as she collided with some woman, falling to the floor with a _slap_ and consequently expelling its contents over the linoleum tile, turning it into a white sea of paper. She fell to her knees and began to scrape the papers toward her, trying her best to straighten them out before shoving them back in. After a few moments, she sat still and sighed, then looked up at the woman she'd walked into. A sinking feeling hit her in the gut as she recognized the red dress. “Oh- Miss Chandler, I…”

The woman in question- no older than Heather Duke herself; God knows what sort of nepotism landed her a position that high- was known pretty much universally among all her subordinates as a demon. _The_ demon. Heather Chandler was vicious; anyone who dared cross her was either fired on the spot or “laid off” within a week. Here she was, 20-syllable Starbucks order splashed onto her chest, staring down at Heather Duke with an odd smile that radiated fury. _“_ You _what,_ Miss Duke?”

“I, uh, I'm sorry,” Heather said hastily, trying to collect her thoughts. _I'll have to email Mom and tell her I lost my job, she'll be so disappointed in me…_ Feeling utterly pathetic, she started to pick up papers again until the manila folder was filled, albeit haphazardly.

Heather narrowed her eyes, observing Heather as coffee soaked brown spots into her dress. “Well, get up, then,” she ordered, “You're blocking the hallway.” Sure enough, the occasional passing coworker was forced to veer to the left to avoid her, invariably looking down with a pitying gaze.

Heather obeyed, getting to her feet and brushing her auburn hair from her face, and, as Chandler looked her up and down, the scornful look on her face changed slightly in a way that she couldn't quite put her finger on. She fidgeted nervously for a moment, then said, “So sorry about your dress, but I should probably get going back to w-”

 _“No,”_ Heather said, and Heather sighed and stopped in her tracks. _What now? She's already mentally writing me off the payroll,_ she thought bitterly to herself. “At the very least, you can buy me a new coffee.” Chandler scowled, looking down at the stain on her dress. “I'd have you buy me a new dress, but that may be going too far.”

 _Yeah? You can go ask Daddy for a new one,_ Heather said pointedly- only in her head, of course; even if she resented her, she knew better than to pick a fight with Heather “The Almighty” Chandler. She tucked her folder under one arm and dug a pen and notepad from her purse, looking up at Heather expectantly. “What's your order?” she asked.

“Half caff latte, skinny- no whip, two shots of hazelnut, grande size,” Heather recited, and Heather scribbled it down before stuffing her notepad in her purse. Satisfied, Heather said, “Now, I'm going to go home and change, and when I get back, I'd better see a piping hot cup coffee on my desk.”

Heather bit back an _“And I'd like to see you dead,”_ reminding herself to keep calm and remember what her therapist advised her to do about her mean streak. “Absolutely, Miss Chandler,” she said instead with just about the fakest smile she'd ever given. She saw in Heather's eyes that it didn't work, but she made no comment; instead, she turned and walked away, leaving Heather to sit there, anticipating her own demise.

 

Blessedly, the lunch rush was just about over by the time Heather got to the Starbucks a few blocks away. The bell jingled brightly as she pushed open the door and stepped in, the smell of spices and coffee rushing over her in a not-entirely-unpleasant wave. _Half caff, skinny, hazelnut, grande,_ she repeated to herself, _half caff, skinny…_

As if God were throwing her a bone, at least the girl taking her order was a familiar face: a dark-haired, green-eyed girl with flawless skin and a resting bitch face. “Veronica, you're a sight for sore eyes,” Heather breathed, relieved that she didn't have to deal with some annoying stranger taking her order. “I didn't know you were working here.”

Veronica shrugged. “Law school's expensive as hell. I decided to pick up another job; God knows how I juggle everything. I've only been here a couple days.” She sighed. _“Anyway,_ I'll need your order or you're gonna get bitched about on social media by everyone in line.”

Feeling like an idiot, Heather quickly said, “Oh, right- half caff latte, skinny, two shots of hazelnut.” As Veronica headed to the coffee machines, she grabbed her wallet and took out a $5 bill, folding it and unfolding it with her thumb and forefinger.

“That's not your usual order,” Veronica noted as she pulled the espresso. “What, finally decide to move on from iced coffee? I told ya the hot stuff’s better.”

“It's not for me,” Heather said, walking over to the other side of the cash register. “It's for my boss. I walked into her today and she demanded I get her coffee to replace the one I got all over her dress.” She groaned, cursing herself internally for being such a clutz.

Not taking her eyes off of the steamed milk she was pouring, Veronica raised her eyebrows. “Your boss? You mean that bitch… what was it, Heather Chance? Heather Chandler?” She whistled. “So what, you fired yet?”

Heather shook her head and handed the bill to the cashier, who looked a little annoyed at the chit chat. “No, actually. She just kinda glared at me, and I thought for sure I'd be packing my sh- _stuff_ and leaving, but then she gave me this… weird look, I guess, and all she made me do was get her coffee.” She shrugged, and the hint of a relieved smile appeared on her face when she said, “Well, whatever. I won't look a gift horse in the mouth, even if that mouth is screaming at me to buy some rich girl coffee from generic coffee shop #3,659. ...No offense.”

Veronica snorted as she gave the latte a shot of hazelnut syrup. “None taken, believe me. Insinuating that I like working here is a personal attack,” she joked, and placed the coffee by the cash register. “Here- half caff skinny latte, two shots of hazelnut.”

“Thanks, Ronnie,” Heather said, grabbing the coffee and change from the cashier. “Wish me luck with Heather.” Veronica whistled _Taps_ as Heather hurried out the door, scurrying back to her office building and mentally preparing for doomsday.

 

Heather rapped her knuckles on the door of Heather's office and hesitantly called, “Miss Chandler? I brought your coffee.” It was cooling down now, and she certainly didn't want it to be too cold for Heather's tastes; given her already precarious position, that would be a death sentence. Fortunately, she didn't have to wait long before the door opened.

Heather Chandler leaned against the doorframe, clad in a red top and grey skirt now, any sign of the incident less than an hour prior completely gone. Without so much as a 'hello’, she grabbed the cup from Heather and took a sip from it; after a tense moment, she nodded. “Good. At least you didn't poison it.”

“Do people usually poison your drinks?” Heather asked, trying to work some humor into her tone. _If I can build a rapport with my boss,_ she thought, _that's a one-way ticket to a promotion, right?_ she thought. _Then I won't have to work under_ her _any longer._

Heather took another drink from the cup, then said, “Well, you never know. I was worshipped in high school, but it's a lot different out here in the real world, huh?” She bit the inside of her cheek, perhaps realizing she was revealing a part of her life to someone who had no reason to know it. “Well. Anyway, Miss Duke, why don't we both get back to work? Those papers of yours won't file themselves.”

“Right, right,” Heather murmured. “...Enjoy the coffee, Miss Chandler.” She turned on her heel and walked away, but her thoughts strayed, always heading right back to the devil in high heels.

 

From that day on, Heather's eyes were somehow drawn to her boss as she passed her in the hall or spotted her at the cafeteria during her lunch break. She really had no idea why- of course, if she wanted to climb the corporate ladder, she'd need to kiss the asses of her higher-ups, but this was different. Heather still half wished she would drop dead, be replaced by someone she'd genuinely enjoy being around- or, better yet, herself… still, there was something oddly alluring about her. So, when Chandler sat down across from Duke at the cafeteria one afternoon, she wasn't entirely unhappy.

“Hello, Duke,” Heather greeted her coolly, setting down her lunch- a Caesar salad, probably homemade instead of bought from the cafeteria, which was _okay_ but not _great._ “How's work been treating you? Focusing a little better on your surroundings, hm?”

 _Never gonna let me live that one down, huh?_ Heather silently wondered. Still, she threw up a cheery facade again and replied, “Yeah, lots better. Oh, and you can call me Heather.” Her own meal, some cheap TV dinner she'd picked up at the grocery store over the weekend, remained untouched.

Heather nodded. “There's too many Heathers here; there's McNamara down in Marketing… Can't a girl just be unique?” She sighed, looking idly down at her nails for a moment, then took another bite of her salad.

“...So, why are you sitting with me?” Heather asked after a few minutes of silence. “I mean, I haven't done anything for you. I thought for sure you would fire me after I ruined your dress and stuff.” She probably shouldn't have been so forward about it instead of going with the flow, but fuck it, she was a little suspicious of Heather's intentions.

Heather leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “Full disclosure? You have a good face. You’re pretty, and I like to surround myself with beautiful people.” The corners of her glossy red lips curved up in a smile that looked strangely sly, as if she had a trick up her sleeve, though she seemed genuine. Just something about her bone structure, perhaps.

Heather was speechless, a deer in the headlights of an oncoming sports car. Sure, she’d gotten compliments on her appearance before, but it was usually from random guys on the street, which were… less than savory for _any_ girl, but considering that she wasn’t into guys in general, it was an overall unpleasant experience and didn’t make her feel any more beautiful coming out the other side. But Heather Chandler was, well, _gorgeous,_ which she could admit regardless of whether she liked the woman or not. When Heather fixed her with a pointed _I told you you’re beautiful, say something,_ look, she quickly said, “Oh, sorry, Miss Chandler. Um, thanks.”

“Drop it, we’re on a first-name basis now, you said it yourself.” Changing the topic completely, Heather pointed her fork at Heather’s TV dinner with a distasteful look. “Are you really gonna eat that crap? I know for sure your job doesn’t pay bad enough to excuse it.”

In truth, Heather didn’t really know why she _did_ buy it; she’d probably just have an apple and some carrots at home, where she was more comfortable eating. So, she shrugged and answered, “Probably not. Why?”

Heather dug her wallet out of her purse, which was lying next to her on the table, and said, “I’ll buy you something decent for lunch. Just let me finish this salad, okay? Look, nobody who rolls with me is gonna eat that kinda shit. It’ll kill you one day.”

Heather blinked, taken aback, and set down the fork she was using to poke at her sweet corn. This, too, was something new. Like Heather, she’d been popular at her school, but that didn’t exactly mean people were nice to her. They sucked up to her, sure, tried to get in her pants, tried to befriend her because she was rich and pretty and knew her way around a makeup kit, but none of them had tried to do it out of the goodness of their hearts. ...Of course, Heather wasn’t sure if it was goodness or shame of being in the same vicinity as whatever shit was in her meal, but still, it was _some_ thing. “Wow, uh, thanks, Heather,” she said, smiling at her genuinely for the first time. _This,_ she thought to herself, _this could be perfect. ...Or it could end in disaster, but I've gotta have faith..._

 

“So, how's it going with boss lady?” Veronica asked through a mouthful of popcorn. They sat on Heather's couch, half-watching some bland, generic sitcom on her modest TV, the most she could afford at her current job. It was a weekly affair, just catching up with each other and drinking enough wine to impress a middle-aged mother. That, of course, was stolen from Heather's parents, who didn't live too far away to mooch off of them on occasion.

Heather thought for a moment. “It's going fine, like, she doesn't hate me. Actually, I think she kinda likes me. She called me pretty.” She smiled gently as she remembered. “Oh, and she bought me lunch the other day.”

Veronica gave a knowing grin and glanced at Heather from the corner of her eye. “Well, I'm pretty sure she likes you if she does that. It sounds like she's getting kinda buddy-buddy with you.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Heather said with a shrug. “It's just, I thought she didn't like _anyone._ I mean, _everybody_ thought she didn't. Half of us wanted her to drop dead.” She sighed and leaned over against the arm of the couch. “So, why me, y’know? She said she wants to surround herself with beautiful people, but there are plenty of good looking people working there.”

“You _are_ beautiful,” Veronica agreed, “but, I dunno, maybe you're special to her or something.” Her face lightened, and she snapped her fingers. “Wait, do you think she's…?”

Heather scoffed and answered, “Yeah, I doubt it. Y'know, there's not a single other gay person at work. Well, not that I know of.” She shrugged. “I mean, maybe she is. That'd be nice, at least. But I don't think any girl's ever had a crush on me, Ronnie.”

Veronica took a long sip of her wine, then said, “Nah, I had a baby gay crush on you in, like, the 10th grade. Oh, don't give me that look!” She chuckled at Heather's blank yet flustered expression. _“Anyway,_ there's always hope. Ooh, how long are her fingernails?”

“Oh, real mature,” Heather said, rolling her eyes, though she could tell that Veronica knew she was amused. “Plus, I never said I like her! So it doesn't really matter if she's a lesbian.” Although, now that she thought about it, would it really be so bad? Heather _was_ gorgeous with her curly blonde hair, and her cute face, and- _No, we are_ not _going there, Heather Duke,_ she scolded herself, shaking her head.

Veronica snorted. “Alright, sure, I definitely believe that.” She ran her fingers through her hair and added, “But I guess it's not smart to date your boss. I mean, if things go wrong…”

“Then your ass is fired,” Heather finished for her. “But if things go well, you're getting way ahead. And I'm a good girlfriend, probably. Maybe.” She paused for a moment. “But regardless, I don't _like_ her. For real, she's kind of a bitch.”

Veronica gave Heather a pointed look. “Okay, but Heather… so are you? So am I, for that matter. Really, she can't be _that_ bad. Why do you hate her so much, anyway?”

Heather brushed off Veronica's insult; she _did_ have a point. “I dunno. She's kinda easy to piss off, y'know? And she fires people at the drop of the hat, which I'm not sure she's allowed to do, but everyone's pretty sure she got the job because her parents run the company, so. It's not like they'd fire her for misconduct.”

“Well, that settles it. You've _gotta_ be special somehow; you should've been sacked the minute you spilled her coffee on her.” Veronica yawned, then took another sip of her wine. “Keep me updated, okay? I cannot emphasise how boring my life is right now, so… I'm living vicariously through you.”

“I'm on it, coach,” Heather laughed. “You want me to keep a diary now?”

“Oh, by all means.” Veronica lifted her glass, wine swishing around the crystal-clear curves. “To young love!”

Heather raised her eyebrows. “You're tipsy,” she said, but raised her glass and tapped it against Veronica's. “To 'young love'.”

 

Her conversation with Veronica kept drifting around at the back of Heather's mind, rushing to the surface whenever she saw Heather, which seemed to be getting more and more often. Whether that was a coincidence or not, she wasn't sure, but whenever she saw her now, she got an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. Did Heather really like her? Was that what that _look_ was about? She knew better than to ask directly; if she was wrong, it could end in disaster. Still, the concept intrigued her.

Another day brought another lunch break spent eating with Heather. She'd stopped buying TV dinners and now brought a small yet healthy lunch to work; she still found it hard to eat in public, but she knew Heather would mention it if she didn't, and that was worse. While she read some random novel she'd picked out at the library and munched away at a green apple, Heather said something to her, but it was lost in the din of the crowd. She swallowed and said, “Sorry, what?”

“I said, let's go out for coffee sometime,” Heather repeated, eyeing her expectantly. “The only time we've talked is at the office. Everyone's so stuffy here; you can't talk about _anything.”_

 _They're probably so stuffy because they don't want to talk and piss you off,_ Heather thought to herself. Still, she smiled and said, “Sure, that sounds great.”

“Well, then, let's go,” Heather said, picking up her purse. “We still have enough time if we go quick. Starbucks isn't too far from here.” She stood up and started to head for the door before Heather reached one arm out.

“What, we're going now?” Heather asked in surprise. “Alright, I guess. Hang on, let me…” She stuffed the book she'd been reading into her purse, then slung it over her shoulder and rushed to catch up with Heather.

 

As soon as they stepped out of the office building, Heather Chandler's demeanor seemed to change. She let her shoulders relax, allowed herself to breathe, smiled more gently; suddenly, she wasn't as scary anymore. Heather Duke observed her, analyzed her- _What is it about work that makes her so aggressive?_ she wondered.

When she noticed Heather watching her, Heather cocked her head. “What, what is it?” she asked, a note of suspicion in her voice.

“Nothing,” Heather said hurriedly, shaking her head. “You just seem… different, is all. When you're not at work.”

“Am I?” Heather murmured. “Well, I have to keep up appearances, you know.” She was about to say something else, but they'd reached the coffee shop; she grabbed Heather by the wrist and pulled her in, bell chiming violently.

 _Appearances? But everyone hates you,_ Heather mused. _Wouldn't it help to just be yourself?_ She kept her mouth shut, though; she still didn't feel comfortable psychoanalyzing her boss, especially out loud and in public.

Heather was certainly _not_ as delighted to see Veronica this time around; she glared as she gave her a little grin and a raised eyebrow, a look that said, _Oh, of_ course _she doesn't like you, that's definitely why she's taking you out for coffee._ “No words,” Heather muttered, then, raising her voice to a normal level, said, “Vanilla sweet cream cold brew, tall. And, uh, you know Heather's order.”

“Does she?” Heather asked, intrigued. “Would this happen to be a friend of yours?” She gestured towards Veronica, who was now busy fixing their drinks.

“That's Veronica Sawyer, my best friend since high school,” Heather explained. “She was here when I got you your coffee the other week.”

“And she knows about me, hm?” Heather raised her eyebrows. “Well, she hasn't splashed hot coffee in my face yet, so it can't be _too_ bad.” She gave her money to the girl at the register and leaned against the counter.

Heather frowned. _First the poisoning, now this. Why does she think everyone's out to get her?_ “I mean… yeah, I just talked about how you've been talking to me lately.”

Veronica, being a decent friend, went along with the flow as she prepared Heather's coffee. “Yeah, I think it's nice that she's getting along with her boss, but I don't know much about you besides your Starbucks order. So, uh, don't sweat it.”

A relieved look crossed Heather's face, and she nodded and smiled, only approximately half fake, at Veronica. “Well, nice to meet you, Sawyer.” She took the coffee from her and sipped it, and, once content, grabbed Heather's arm. “Come on, Heather, let's go.”

“I didn't even pay for my coffee!” Heather protested, struggling to grab a bill from her wallet and tossing it down on the counter. “Keep the change, I guess,” she said, and let Heather lead her to the stools by the window. There was a few minutes of relative silence before Heather asked, “So, what did you want to talk about that you couldn't at the office?”

Heather shrugged. “Anything, really. I mean, who _are_ you?” She fixed Heather with a look that was intense- not mean, exactly, just _intense._ “All I know is that your name is Heather Duke and you tolerate reading.”

Heather twirled a strand of red-brown hair with one finger. _Well, who_ am _I?_ she wondered. _What a question._ “Well… I don't know. I like fashion, but I guess that's obvious, considering where we work.” She sighed. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, where'd you grow up? Do you have any pets? ...A boyfriend? What kinds of music do you like?” Heather could hardly keep up with the barrage of questions, but Heather wasn't someone she wanted to disappoint.

“Uh, I grew up in Sherwood; it's not that far from here, actually, just a bit south.” She shuddered to remember her youth; now it was just a blur of impersonal sex, keg parties with strangers, and mental health issues. “My parents have a cat, and um…” Heather paused. _Did she just ask if I have a boyfriend? Well, I guess that's innocuous enough, I'm sure Veronica's wrong…_ “I don't have a boyfriend. Actually, I'm a lesbian.”

Something in Heather's eyes seemed to light up for a split second before she blinked it away. “Oh? Sorry for assuming. Actually, I can sort of tell, now that I look at you.”

 _Sure wish every pig on the street could,_ Heather thought to herself. “Right… anyway, I guess I like 80’s music.” _...How much does all this say about who I really am, though?_ she wondered. “What about you, Heather?”

Heather gave her an odd look, almost as if she'd misheard her, but, like many of her expressions besides ‘glare’ and ‘forced smile,’ it was gone in an instant. “Well. I was born right here in Toledo. Never heard of Sherwood; is it one of those dinky little towns with just a gas station and a church?” Heather nodded, and she continued, “Thought so. I have three cats, no boyfriend, really… And I listen to whatever garbage is on the radio,” she said with a laugh.

 _'No boyfriend, really.’_ So she was single, at least, but it didn't sound as if she liked girls. Heather had figured so, but she was still almost disappointed. _...Why, though? Why does that matter?_ she asked herself, suddenly the slightest bit nervous. _I can't seriously like this bitch, can I?_ But… she was hardly even a bitch now, at least not to her. “Well, um. That's nice,” she said, not able to formulate any other words.

Heather looked like she was about to say something else- probably a comment about how spaced out she was- but her watch caught her eye, and she exclaimed, “Oh, fuck, we've gotta get back to the office! I've got a meeting soon…”

“Shit,” Heather cursed under her breath, and grabbed her coffee and purse. “Come on, let's go, you probably shouldn't be late for that.” Heather nodded wordlessly and picked up her own before rushing for the door, narrowly avoiding bumping into some poor man on his cell phone. Heather followed quickly behind and speed-walked out the door after her, running to catch up when she got out onto the crowded sidewalk. As they neared their building, Heather noticed her change once again- face becoming less expressive, more crabby; back ramrod straight and shoulders squared defensively. _It's like she's a totally different person,_ she thought to herself.

Sure enough, as soon as they had to part ways, Heather left her with a curt, “See you,” and walked off towards one of the meeting rooms. Heather watched her go, and some part of her felt sad, aching on behalf of her demonic boss _. Why can't she be herself? What's holding her back? And why,_ why _do I care so much?_

 

The idle yet nagging interest Heather had with Heather had begun to grow into something more. She'd taken her meds, read some more of that book, and, by all logic, _should_ have been sound asleep, but her mind kept circling back to Heather, Heather, Heather. Part of it was just wondering why she acted the way she did- the _ways,_ rather, which was the whole issue- but part of it was a little different. Eyes closed, she thought about Heather's eyes, her skin, her hair, her _lips_ , and it took all of her strength to keep from groaning in frustration at herself. “Congrats, Heather, you did it. You've become infatuated with your boss,” she muttered.

She thought she could shrug it off and ignore it, but the subtle intrigue Heather usually felt when she saw Heather had been replaced by a fluttering feeling in her chest, a somewhat unpleasant feeling that only left her angry with herself. _Obviously_ Heather didn't like her; she wasn't even a lesbian, after all. Even if she treated her better than everyone else, said hello in the halls, bought her lunch sometimes, took her out for coffee… well, she probably just needed a friend. That's what Heather told herself, anyway.

And a friend she could be. Even with these feelings, she could be a friend; she could keep her mouth shut, smile and nod even though deep in her there were feelings that Heather could never know about. She could accompany her to cafés, carry her stuff, go over to her place or let her come to hers… It was fine. This was fine. All in a day's work. Anything to get ahead, she repeated in her head as she tried to sleep, listening to cars rush by on the street.

 

Friday night, 9PM. She'd been invited over to Heather's apartment, more lavish than her own, and full of reds and pinks and whites. They'd broken out some wine, seated next to each other on the scarlet-colored couch, drinking away the weight of the week and talking about something stupid, something Heather couldn't remember, when Heather said, “Y’know, Duke, I've noticed you looking at me.”

Heather's already pink cheeks darkened, and she stammered, “Wh-what do you mean?” Suddenly the room seemed tiny, claustrophobic, and her neckline was choking her. The stem of her wine glass became an anchor.

“You're analyzing me with that pretty little head of yours,” Heather said, an accusatory yet not angry tone in her voice. “You want to know why I act the way I do.”

 _So the truth comes out._ “Yeah, I do,” Heather admitted. “You act so different outside of the office, like you're two different people.”

Heather sighed deeply and brushed her blonde hair from her face, tucking it behind one ear. “I guess you can't be in high school forever. If you're pretty and rich in high school, you're worshipped, even if you're a bitch. But in the real world…” She averted her gaze from Heather's, eyes cast downward. “Well, then you're just a bitch.”

“But you don't have to be one,” Heather said. “I know you're capable of being pleasant. Maybe not _friendly,_ but… it's something.” She felt the sudden urge to place her hand atop Heather's, but now wasn't the time or the place- and yet, _and yet,_ she felt Heather's soft skin beneath hers as she did, hoping desperately that it wasn't a misstep.

Heather didn't seem to respond either way, so if it bothered her at all, it couldn't have been too much. “But… people know me like this now. I hear what they call me. A piranha. A mythic bitch. A demon queen.” She sighed again, took another drink of her wine. “And I have to live up to that, don't I? I mean, will they really believe I had a sudden change of heart at the ripe old age of 24?”

“Look,” Heather said sternly, “I used to be a bitch too. I still am sometimes, though Veronica and my therapist help me keep it in check.” Tonight was a night of oversharing for her as well, apparently. “But if they can't believe your not-bitchiness is real, that's their own problem. You showed _me_ that side of you, and I accepted it, because it was better than having someone terrible for a boss. Everyone else is just like me.”

“You're _nothing_ like those other- those _nobodies_ ,” Heather snapped, not at her but at her words, her denial of her uniquity. “Heather, you're beautiful, you're smart, you have substance…” She glared at her glass. “Fuckin’ alcohol, making me say all this shit. My point is, I let you see the good side of me because you deserve to know, because I _want_ you to know.”

Heather swallowed sharply. _Is she…? Was I wrong? Could she ever love me back?_ She was silent for a few moments, unable to find the words to reply. Finally, she said, “Thank you, but, Heather, you need to show this side to other people. Otherwise… nobody's going to know you have feelings, and you can't live like that. You need to be true to yourself.” _All my life I've been put on a pedestal by my peers and pushed aside by my parents,_ she thought; _Even pretty girls have feelings, so Heather, why won't you show yours?_

Heather leaned back and rested her eyes for a moment. “I… know. I've grown up, and I _know_ I have to act like an adult. But it's-” she hiccuped- “scary.” Despite just having complained about the alcohol, she filled up her wine glass and took a swig of it. “...I only have one friend, for God's sake, and who even knows if my parents care about me. I mean, sure, they got me this job, but they just want more money coming into the family instead of some rando’s. So, who's gonna help me through?”

 _“I_ will,” Heather exclaimed. The alcohol must have been getting to her, too, because there were tears in her eyes now. “So let me help! I’ll help you, so Heather, just… stop being a bitch!”

It sounded mean coming out, but Heather just laughed. “Fine. You know what? This is the day Heather Chandler grows the fuck up.”

Heather laughed, losing her balance and falling slightly against Heather. “God, I love you.” The words slipped out as soon as they snuck into her thoughts, and her eyes widened, immediately regretting it and wanting to die in a hole, or at least live as a hermit for the rest of her life.

Heather tensed, not breathing, not responding for seconds that stretched into an eternity, before she whispered, “I love you, too.”

In the haze of the alcohol, Heather found her lips on Heather's before she realized what was happening; the question whoever started it was lost to history. It was a sloppy yet passionate kiss, and Heather felt herself melt into it, melt into Heather's touch as she pulled her close. “Heather,” she murmured as Heather pulled away to catch her breath, “what are we doing?”

“We’re being true to ourselves,” Heather answered simply. “Now, kiss me hard, Heather Duke.”

Not out of duty or out of fear, but out of love, Heather obliged.

 

When Heather woke up on Heather's couch the next morning, lit up by sunshine that streamed through the open window, she could only remember some of the previous night. She and Heather had gotten just drunk enough to reveal deep dark feelings, and for Heather to not be able to drive, so she'd stayed over. What did they even talk about? Heather wanted to be less bitchy, said she only had one friend, said-

Heather's heart skipped a beat. “Oh my God,” she whispered, “she loves me back. ...What the hell have I gotten myself into?” She opened her eyes, shielding them from the sunlight with one arm, and sighed. Some part of her couldn't accept that love for a myriad of reasons, not the least of which was the ever-present issue of _she's my fucking boss, there's probably rules against that._

Yet, she didn't want to give up on Heather. Even if she was a bitch at work, even if she was so emotionally constipated that she could only talk about her feelings whilst sloshed, even if she was still figuring out the real world and was bound to fuck up a time or twelve, she didn't want to give up on Heather. That's what love is, after all. And maybe this was just infatuation, just her reeling from a girl actually paying attention to her and not just wanting to be friends so they'd get to go to keg parties and get laid in the back of their car, but maybe, _maybe_ it was love.

Either way, she would hold fast to it.

 

Months later, another Saturday night, this time in Veronica's humble abode. The three of them- Heather, Heather, and, of course, Veronica- sat contentedly, Heather Duke snuggled up to Heather Chandler and Veronica leaning sleepily against the arm of the couch. It was business as usual: wine, popcorn, cheesy rom-coms that got approximately 45% on Rotten Tomatoes. “So,” Veronica asked, “how's work going for you two lovebirds?”

Heather Chandler gave a quiet sigh. “Well, some people are _still_ suspicious of me, but I guess I had that coming. Y’know, making an effort to not be a bitch is surprisingly healing.”

“Well, better late than never to learn that,” Veronica said. “No offense.” She grabbed the bowl of popcorn from where it sat between her and the Heathers and held it in her lap, munching quietly.

Heather and Heather exchanged an amused glance. “None taken,” Heather laughed, “but gimme back the popcorn, jerk.” Veronica was about to throw a handful of popcorn at her, but thought better of it and reluctantly passed the bowl over, though not without sticking her tongue out at Heather.

Heather Duke chuckled as Heather Chandler pouted at Veronica and took a handful of popcorn. While Heather chewed, Heather asked, “And how's Miss Law School doing?”

Veronica shrugged. “Same shit, different day. Working at Starbucks is hellish. But hey, at least my two favorite customers come there every day,” she answered, grinning at Heather and Heather.

Heather Duke turned her head and kissed Heather Chandler's cheek, leaving a faint red lipstick stain. “Well, that's where we had our first date, after all.”

“That wasn't a _date,”_ Heather protested, but when Veronica fixed her with an incredulous look, she said, “Fine _,_ it was a date, okay?” Veronica and Heather chuckled, and Heather's cheeks went pink as she looked away. “You guys suck!”

“It's okay, we know you have trouble with feelings,” Heather said, and Heather relaxed slightly, running her fingers through her girlfriend’s soft brown hair. “But I'm glad you're with me, Heather.”

Veronica fake-gagged as the two of them kissed gently, a small scene of intimacy in a hectic and confusing life, tinted with the smell of alcohol and butter and the Thai food Veronica's apartment neighbors had ordered. “I love you, too,” Heather whispered, the light in her heart, the soft side of her, coming through clear as day in her voice.

Heather's heart felt weightless in that moment, surrounded by her girlfriend and her most trusted friend, loved like she hadn't ever been before- a love that bloomed in spite of Heather's hesitancy and her own insecurities, like a dandelion that grew through the concrete outside of their towering office building. It was soft, it was warm, and it was hers- no, _theirs._ It was a love of their own, and nothing, not company rules or societal expectations or growing pains or anything else, could tear them apart. Not now, not ever.

**Author's Note:**

> YET AGAIN thanks for reading!!!


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